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THE 

RABBIT’S RANSOM 






9 







THE 

RABBIT’S RANSOM 


BEING A NEW EDITION OF 

“OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM" 


CLARA VAWTER 
v \ 


WITH 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY 

WILL VAWTER 

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INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


PZi 

«V 4 T 3 

If 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 


JAN 2 1904 

l Copyright Entry 

Jw. 7~- I « 0 + 

QLASS 0 ^ XXc. No, 

‘j ?\r 

1 COPY B 


Copyright, 1899, 1902 

by 

The Bowen-Merrill Company 
All rights reserved 


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PRESS OF 

BRAUN WORTH & CO. 
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN. N. Y. 



TO OUR MOTHER 

To WHOM WE OWE ALL THAT IS OF MERIT 
IN THIS BOOK. 



# 


I 





iSOMTEMT 



page 

Dedication xi 

The Rabbit’s Ransom 23 

His Christmas Turkey 55 

It Worries Me 81 

Grandfather’s Glasses 82 

Little Lady, Come and Play 85 

Always Dinnertime 88 

Grandpa’s Li.tle Man 93 

The Baker’s Son 95 

How Annetta was Cured 101 

The Genius 132 

Mother’s Little Man 134 

The Oak Tree’s Secret 137 

The Provident Old Man 165 

The Reformation of Biddy 167 


( xiii ) 




DLILtBSTITMtoJ 

afeHcW 



Annetta Helps Move 

Soapsup Icing 

Eleven or Fourteen Cents .... 
IIe was a Very Large Boy . . . . 

Tiie Rabbit’s New Owner 

His Own Little Home 

They Must Be Very Saving . . . . 

The Bird and Animal Book . . . . 

Painting a Turkey 

With Its Wing over His Shoulder , 

And It’s a Wild Turkey 

Grandfather’s Glasses 

Always Dinner Time ...... 

The Baker’s Son 

He was Black and White .... 
They Tied a Black Veil , . . . . 



35 


39 

43 

49 


/ 


59 - 
65 / 


69 / 


io / 


77 / 
83 - 
91 / 
97 / 
103 / 


i xv ) 


W 


I llustr ations — Con tinned 


He Followed the Cat Around . . . 

Come into the House, Jamie .... 

Some Medicine for Tom 

The Doctor’s Cart 

Mother’s Little Man . ... . . . 

Robbers under His Branches . . . 

Bending over His Bench 

About the Mortgage 

A Heavy Sack, too 

I Told You 

The "Provident Old Man 

Under a Tub 

The Grocer Drove a Thriving Trade 
Have Went and Brung Their Hen 
As the Children Were Going Home . 


. Ill' 

. 115 * 

. 121 
. 125 
. 135 ^ 
. 139 " 
. 143 
. 147 
. 151 
. 159 
. 163 
. 171 
. 175 ' 
. 187 
191 ' 




# 
















































































IN THE MORNING of our days , then our happy fancies glide 
Out into the golden future , like a leaf upon the tide 
Of a swiftly- flowing river , that hurls its way along 
Through sunny fields , and meadowlands , where every thrush' s song, 
As he sings among the branches , floods the world with melody , 

Like some happy-hearted messenger of things that are to be. 

For though youth has many sorrows , and the child-heart sadly grieves 
Yet the sun is ever shining through the trailing willow leaves j 
And we're looking ever forward to the future through the haze 
Of the pro7nise a7id the glory of the 7norni7ig of our days. 


IN THE E VENING of our days , whe7i the oars softly dip 
Into strange and silent waters , the7i our wayward fa7icies slip 
Back along the way we' ve journeyed , where the su7i s departing glow 
Falls in silent be7iediction o'er the la7ids of long ago , 

Then the flowers of memory bloom for us, the thrush' s song is heard , 
Like the sole77in, sweet renewal of a promise long deferred ; 

And the sorrows and the heartaches that we've suffered, we forget. 
But the joys we used to know — ah! they are 7uith us yet. 

For we 're looking ever backward through the dim a7id misty haze , 
In the cal77i a7id peaceful twilight of the evening of our days. 






























































































The Rabbit’s Ransom 


I' 

' I 'HE rabbit was owned by a boy. All day - 
long he had to sit in a little box with slats 
across the front of it so that he couldn’t possibly 
escape, and as he pressed his trembling nose 
against the prison bars and looked out upon 
the unfamiliar scenes about him and listen^ 
to the jingle of the bells, as the street cars weA 
clattering by, he was often very much af^^ii^( 
and very lonely, too. Then he thought of his 
little house in the cabbage field, far away, ancfy 
of his wife and children, and he wondered if 
they had been annoyed by hunters that season, 
or if his little ones had had the ear-ache much 
during the cold weather. He had made so many 
unsuccessful attempts to escape, that he had 
long ago given up all hope of ever seeing his 
friends again, and grew more and more de- 
jected as the days went by. 


",)Jl 

d T : 


J 





24 


The Rabbit’s Ransom "1 [[> 



He had been a captive a good many weeks 
when he first saw Jamie. Now, Jamie was a 
very little boy, but he could go on errands for 
his mother, and one morning in the early 
spring, as he was returning from the grocery 
with his arms full of bundles, he caught sight 
of the rabbit; so he hastily laid down his load 
on the sidewalk, and climbed upon the fence 
and looked very wonderingly at the little stranger 
from the country. He stayed such a long time 
that his mother grew alarmed at his absence 
and came to look for him, and when she had 
lifted him down from the fence, and was lead- 
ing him home, she said: 

“Did you know there was a little girl 
moving in next door to us? Now you’ll 
have somebody to play with.” But Jamie 
was thinking of the rabbit, so he said he didn’t 
care much about playing with girls. All 
the same, he watched Annetta with a great deal 
interest as she carried her various posses- 
^Dsions in from' the dray and put them on the 








27 


The Rabbit’s Ransom 

porch of the house next door. She kept run- 
ning back and forth and getting in everybody’s 1 
way, and her mother was so continually pulling ^ 
her out from under the burly draymen’s feet, 'if* 
that it seemed to Jamie she would certainly be V 
crushed by some of the heavy furniture. Then, ^ 
when her mother began to sweep out the rooms, 
Annetta took her little broom and followed 
around after her and swept very industriously 
in all the corners, and raised a great deal of 
dust. And after she had helped her mother 
make everything neat and tidy and felt that she 
had a few moments’ leisure to devote to her own 
affairs, she put on her mittens and pinned a 
little checkered breakfast shawl over her head 
so very tight that her cheeks bulged out like 
red apples, and went into the back yard to look 
after her own housekeeping, and to make exca- 
vations for a mud-pie bakery. Now Annetta 
had been housekeeping for some time, and 
knew exactly how to go about it, so very soon 
she had made her a little house of chips and 


28 


The Rabbit’s Ransom 


built a stove in one corner and put her dinner 
on to cook. Then, with a weary sigh, she sat 
down on a brick to wait until it should be 
done. While she was waiting she looked up 
and saw Jamie regarding her narrowly through 
a hole in the fence. 

“ Hello,” she said, “is that where you live?” 

“I know where there’s a rabbit,” said the 
little boy. 

So that’s how they became acquainted, and 
soon they were the very best of friends. 

It was a long time, though, before Jamie 
would take the little girl to see the rabbit, for 
it is a great privilege to be on terms of in- 
timacy with a rabbit, and he was afraid she 
might not quite appreciate it; but when at last 
he did take her, he saw that he had been greatly 
mistaken, for Annetta, too, had lived in the 
country before she became Jamie’s neighbor, 
and spoke so very knowingly of rabbits and 
their ways that the little boy was filled with 
admiration; and one day when her mother 


29 



pulled off all the outside leaves and handed 
them across the fence to the boy and said: 
“Will you please give these to your rabbit?” 
and the rabbit ate them very gratefully, and 
seemed much cheered and refreshed. 

It was Saturday afternoon. The ground was 
very black and warm, and the fresh, damp odor 
of spring was in the air. Jamie’s mother had 
come over to see Annetta’s mother, and both 
were working away in the kitchen, making 
cakes, evidently, for Annetta had seen a 
great number of eggs upon the kitchen table, 
and her mother had told her to go into the 
yard and play and take good care of Jamie. 
So she gave him some soapsuds to beat up for 
icing, while she made a cake of her own. 

“As soon as you get that done,” she said, 
by way of encouragement, “then we will go and 
make our nest.” 

“Our what?” said the little boy, wonder- 
ingly. 






^/Rabbit’s Ransom 


“Our nest,” said Annetta, working away 
busily, “for rabbits to lay eggs in. You know 
to-morrow is Easter, and mamma sa»id we 
should make our nest together in our yard.” 
But Jamie only looked the more bewildered. 

“Why, Annetta,” he said, “hens lay eggs, 
rabbits don’t.” 

Annetta shut her lips very tight and re- 
garded him scornfully for a moment out of 
the corner of her eye; but he looked so 
very little as he sat on the brick, and he 
was doing his work so very well, that her 
heart relented; so she just sat down beside 
him and explained to him about the rabbit, 
and how she had always made a nest under the 
apple-tree in the orchard at home, and found 
the rabbit’s eggs there on Easter morning. 

“But they never laid me any,” said Jamie, 
shaking his head doubtfully. 

“Well,” answered Annetta, “ maybe you 
never made any nest; rabbits ain’t going to lay 
eggs on fences, I guess,” 
















The Rabbit’s Ransom 


But still Jamie wasn’t convinced, and he felt 
a little bit slighted too. He followed Annetta 
dutifully, while she walked about the yard 
looking out a good location for the nest; all 
the time he was thinking very hard, and soon 
he arrived at the root of the difficulty. 

“I’ll tell you how it is,” he said, stopping 
before the little girl with his arms full of straw 
and chips which he had been collecting; “of 
course, when you lived in the country, there 
were lots of rabbits there to lay you eggs, but 
there ain’t any rabbits in cities, and that’s why 
they never laid any for me.” 

Now, somehow, this suggestion struck a cold 
chill to Annetta’s little heart. She had often 
been homesick for the green fields, and now if 
the rabbits were going to desert her, that was too 
much! She looked out across the muddy street, 
and at the high smoky buildings, and at the 
people going busily up and down. She tried to 
go bravely on with her work, but Jamie could 
see that from time to time she wiped her « 


eyes 



34 The Rabbit’s Ransom h 


secretly upon the corner of her little shawl, and 
|>'ot her face very dirty in consequence. He was 
sorry for her, but he could think of no comfort- 
ing words, so he just put his hand into his pocket 
and drew out a buckeye, which Annetta had 
long coveted, and pressed it into her little, cold, 
muddy hand as a silent expression of sym- 
pathy. There must have been a subtle magic 
in the gift, for suddenly a bright thought struck 
Annetta. 

“Jamie,” she said, jumping up and brush- 
ing the straw from her apron, “I know what 
we can do;” then, although there was no- 
body to overhear, she leaned over and whis- 
pered something in the little boy’s ear, and as he 
listened, his eyes grew very round and eager; 
he nodded his head approvingly. “It’ll take 
money, though,” said Annetta, straightening 
up. “How much have you got?” 

“Oh, ever so much,” said Jamie, “eleven or 
fourteen cents, I ’spect. I’ll go and get it.” 








8 $ 








mzmw 












The Rabbit’s Ransom 


37 


fence and soon returned with all his wealth. 
Annetta, too, brought her bank from the house, 
and they made haste to break the doors in 
and deposit their savings on the ground. 
Annetta made several attempts to count the 
money, but obtained such a bewildering va- 
riety of answers that she gave it up in despair. 
Merely remarking loftily that she thought it 
would be a plenty, she put it in her apron 
pocket, and Jamie helped her pin the pocket 
so that it couldn’t possibly lose out; then she 
took the little boy’s hand and they walked 
briskly around the house and out into the 
street. 

Straight to the rabbit’s box they went, 
but they didn’t stop to look over the fence 
now; instead, they went boldly into the yard 
and Annetta knocked as loudly as she could 
upon the door of the house where the boy 
who owned the rabbit lived. Soon the door 
was opened and the owner of the rabbit stood 
looking down upon them. He was a very 



38 


The Rabbit’s Ransom 


large boy. His hands were chapped and cov- 
ered with warts; he had a freckled face and 
round, thoughtful eyes. The children had 
never been so close to him before, and Jamie 
was a little bit confused, but Annetta stood up 
very straight and stated their mission with bus- 
iness-like brevity. 

“We came to speak to you about your rab- 
bit,” she said. “We wanted to know if you 
would sell him to us; or, if you don’t want to 
sell him, we thought maybe you could tell us 
where we could get a good rabbit.” 

“We’d rather have this one, though,” Jamie 
put in, “because we are acquainted with him. 
We always meant to buy him and let him out, 
anyhow, as soon as we got money enough, for 
we don’t think he likes to stay in that little box 
very well.” 

“We are particular about getting our rabbit 
this afternoon,” Annetta went on, in a kindly 
explanatory voice, “because we want one to lay 



v. 












The Rabbit’s Ransom 


4i 


us Easter eggs to-night. Do you know if your 
rabbit is a good layer ?” 

The boy had not had his rabbit over Easter, 
so he couldn’t say as to his capabilities; more- 
over, he had not thought of selling him. He 
walked slowly across the yard and leaned upon 
the rabbit’s box, and the children stood before 
him silently while he looked across the street 
and seemed to be thinking. 

“How much will you give for him?” he 
said at last. 

Annetta hastily unpinned htt pocket and / 
poured their savings in a little heap on the /j 
top of the rabbit’s box, and watched the boy’s 
face anxiously while he counted the money. 

“Twelve cents,” he said, meditatively; “I’d 
lose on him at that price. I paid a dime for him 
in the first place, and I’ve taught him tricks 
since.” 

Then he looked at his property reflectively. 
Now, the rabbit was very anxious to be 
sold to these good friends of his; so when he 



42 


The Rabbit’s Ransom 


saw he was being observed by his owner, he 
hung down his ears and tried to look as worth- 
less and “ no-account” as possible, and suc- 
ceeded so very well that the boy thought 
himself lucky to be rid of him at any price; so 
he swept the money into his pocket, and said 
he believed he would sell his rabbit and keep a 
turtle instead. 

Jamie squeezed Annetta’s hand tight, and 
even the little girl’s lip trembled as the boy 
undid a door at the back of the box and 
took the weary prisoner out, and put him 
into her outstretched arms; the rabbit rested 
his chin upon his new owner’s shoulder 
and waved his ears joyfully, as she walked 
quickly away; and Jamie trotted sturdily at her 
side and held fast hold of one of the rabbit’s 
legs, which hung down under the little girl’s 
arm. 

“We had better show him the nest, hadn’t 
We?” said Jamie, when they reached home; 



























The Rabbit’s Ransom 


45 


but somehow Annetta felt that this would be a 
reflection upon the sagacity of the rabbit. 

“No,” she said confidently, “he can find any 
nest that ever was; and now, Jamie,” she con- 
tinued, impressively, “you can take him and put 
him away until to-night. I’d keep him myself 
but I haven’t any good place, and when you go 
to bed you put him out of the window. Then 
as soon as he has laid our eggs, he can go home 
to his folks. Now don’t you go to sleep and 
forget about it!” and Annetta shook her head 
severely at the little boy, whose eyes were so 
wide open it seemed as if he would never be 
able to go to sleep again. 

Then she handed the rabbit to him and 
folded his arms carefully about it, and Jamie 
went staggering into the house and hid his old 
friend in the closet of his own little room, and 
when his mother came home she found him 
sitting in solemn silence, with his back against 
the closet door, trying to look very unconcerned 
and careless. f|, 





‘A ! 




The Rabbit’s Ransom 


Jamie never liked to get out of bed in the 
dark, for he was always a little bit afraid some- 
thing would catch his feet, so to-night as soon 
as his mother tucked him in and left him, he 
jumped as far out into the room as he could. 
He opened the closet door and took the rabbit 
out; then, groping his way through the gloom, 
he raised the window softly and set the rabbit 
down on the sill. 

It was a very dark night. There was no 
moon, and even the stars had hidden them- 
selves away behind the great black clouds 
which were hurrying across the sky, and the 
night wind, as it blew in upon Jamie’s face 
and ruffled the rabbit’s fur, felt very damp 
and chilly. The little boy held his old friend 
close in his arms, and somehow hated to 
let him go, for they had known each other 
a long time and he felt that he might never see 
him again. He laid his cold cheek down on 
the soft, warm fur, and smoothed the rabbit’s 
ears affectionately. 



The Rabbit’s Ransom 


47 


“You just lay me and Annetta some eggs,” 
he whispered, “and then you can go home;” 
and with a farewell pat he leaned far from the 
window and dropped the rabbit to the ground 
beneath; the next moment he saw him go, 
like a gray streak, across the fence into An- 
netta’s yard; but still he couldn’t sleep. 

He was afraid the rabbit mightn’t be able 
to find the nest, for even Annetta didn’t know 
everything. So, by and by, he ventured to 
peep out again. It was still very dark, but 
over in Annetta’s yard a little light was mov- 
ing stealthily about in the direction of the 
nest, and something or somebody went stumb- 
ling over the stove in the bakery. Jamie wove 
his cold toes together for very happiness, for he 
knew then that the rabbit was looking for the 
nest with a lantern. 

He went to bed very well contented after that, 
and all night long he dreamed he was an Easter 
egg; so that early in the 'morning, when An- 
netta came knocking on the window, he didn’t 



48 


The Rabbit’s Ransom 


answer for a little bit, for he thought it was just 
somebody tapping on his shell; but Annetta 
kept on knocking very energetically; then she 
called out and said: 

“Get up and see the eggs,” and by the time 
Jamie got to the window, she had reached 
down into her little apron, which she had gath- 
ered up in front of her, and arranged upon 
the sill eight gorgeous Easter eggs. 

“Half of ’em’s yours and half of ’em mine,” 
she said, stepping back so that he might get 
an unobstructed view of the rabbit’s handi- 
work; and, indeed, this was true; for that there 
might be no mistake about it, the rabbit had 
printed Jamie’s name upon four of the eggs 
and Annetta’s name on four, and very good 
printing it was, too, for a rabbit to do. 

That morning as they went by to Sunday- 
school, the children stopped again and looked 
over the fence at the rabbit’s box. It was 
empty now, and very lonely it looked, with a 









■*|P»r 















The Rabbit’s Ransom 5 r 

little piece of fur sticking on a nail at the back 
of it. 

“I hope he’ll get home all right,” said Jamie 
softly. 

“And I hope no dogs will chase him,” 
whispered Annetta. 

But they needn’t have feared for the wise 
old rabbit, for he traveled fast and well, and 
that very Easter night he sat happily before 
the door of his own little house, with his 
wife and children gathered around him; and 
again he watched the moon rise over the cab- 
bage field, and the shadow of the fences 
in the road looked very sharp and black, and 
the church bells ringing in the city sounded 
faint and far away. Then a number of the 
rabbit’s friends dropped in and shook him 
warmly by the paw, and said how glad they 
were he had returned in safety from his long 
captivity; and his children sat about his feet 
and clasped their little knees and listened with 


52 


The Rabbit’s Ransom 


their eyes and ears wide open, while their 
father told them of the lonely box in the busy 
city and of the many weary days that he had 
passed there, and of the children who had set 
him free at last. 

“And,” said the rabbit, as he knocked the 
ashes from his pipe, and leaned back compla- 
cently in his easy chair, “they are very good 
liitle children, and I mean to remember them 
every Easter.” And I am glad to say that the 
rabbit keeps his word. 






His Christmas Turkey 




When Philip was five years old, he first 
realized that the lack of money is an unpleasant 
thing, and sometimes hampers one. 

The artist had found that out long ago, for 
he was thirty. 

Philip lived with his mother in a little cottage 
in the suburbs of a certain city, no difference 
where; the artist lived just across the alley 
from them, at the top of a very tall brick build- 
ing. 

Philip would often look up at the artist’s 
window, and watch him moving back and 
forth before his easel, sometimes stepping away 
with his head on one side, to get a better 
view of his picture; and the child wished that 
he might climb the dark, narrow stairway lead- 
ing to that skylighted room, and see some of 
the wonderful things he knew were to be found 


56 


His Christmas Turkey 



* 



in studios; but he never quite mustered up 
courage to make the journey. 

Nevertheless, the artist was of a pleasant dis- 
position, and had shown a desire to be neigh- 
borly, for when Philip had had the measles, and 
his mother would be shaking the rugs on the 
^ide porch, more than once the great man had 
his head out of the window, and said: 
How is your little boy this morning?” 

Philip had heard him. But he felt that the 
Arespect had been paid rather to the disease than 
to himself, and now that he was over the 
measles he hesitated to renew the acquaint- 
ance. 

It was in the evening, two days before Christ- 
mas. Philip sat on a stool at his mother’s 
feet, with his chin resting on her knees. She 
was making him an overcoat, and he watched 
the proceeding with much interest, for it was 
being made out of an old dress-skirt of her 
own, and the little boy had a sickening mis- 
giving that it might, after all, betray its feminine 


His Christmas Turkey 


57 


origin, and develop into some sort of a girl’s 
garment. But his last fear vanished when be 
saw the deft fingers cunningly fashion it into • 
double-breasted affair, and sew six great manb 
looking buttons on the front of it. 

He stood up now to try it on; and when itjj 
was fastened up, the big buttons glittered in' 
the firelight and looked like plates, and Philip’sJ 
well-fed stomach like a table set for six people.: 

Perhaps *that was what put the notion of a" 
Christmas dinner into his mind. At any rate j 
as his mother knelt on the floor before him 1 
with her needle in her mouth, and pulled the 
bottom of the little coat even, Philip beat her 
softly on the head with his damp, warm fists, 
and said: 

“ Mamma, when are we going to get our 
turkey for Christmas?” 

Then his mother sat flat down on the floor, 
and pulled him down beside her, and explained 
to him that she was afraid they could hardly 
afford to get a turkey that Christmas. A big 


58 


His Christmas Turkey 

turkey would be entirely too much for just her- 
self and Philip and Jane, the little maid, and 
since the father was gone (there were tears in 
her voice and eyes now) the ) 7 must be very 
saving, and not spend any more money 
than they could possibly help. Philip listened 
to her in wide-eyed astonishment; then the 
corners of his mouth got square. His mother, 
the little coat, and the big buttons, all vanished 
in a mist of tears; he had his first tiff with 
t' poverty, and cried. 

He dried his eyes presently, and wandered 
over to the window. He pressed his tear-stained 
nose against the cold glass until it grewleprously 
white, and looked out into the darkness. 

There was a bright light in the artist’s room; 
lie was going to have a turkey for Christmas, 
no doubt; and perhaps oranges — who knows? 

Philip was quite sure that he and his mother 
were the only turkeyless people in the whole 
world. 

rruuri thought, he turned 



I 













' 































































































4 






















































































































•* 








His Christmas Turkey 


6 1 


away and tried to amuse himself by looking at 
his bird and animal book. This was his great- 
est treasure. It had tided him over many diffi- 
culties, and had been a great comfort to him in 
all his troubles; but somehow it had lost its 
charm to-night. The kangaroo carrying her 
babies did not look nearly so funny as usual, 
and the pink bear chasing the hunter in a yellow 
coat was not so ferocious as Philip could have 
wished. He turned the leaves slowly and de- 
spondently. Suddenly he stopped, and looked 
most intently at a certain picture. He had seen 
it often before; but to-night it had a new signifi- 
cance for him. He spread the book out on the 
floor, lay down before it, and then, with much 
difficulty and many mistakes, he spelled out 
the description, which was printed in big black 
letters under the picture. Having accomplished 
this feat, he shut the book, and put it away 
in the most secret manner; then he dragged 
his little chair up to the fire, sat down, and 



62 


His Christmas Turkey 


crossed his legs. And his look was the look of 
a man who has made a great resolve. 

Philip was up early the next morning. His 
mother had to go into town on business, and 
would be gone two hours at least. Jane was 
busy in the front part of the house, and that 
gave him ample opportunity to carry out the 
scheme which had been running in his head all 
night. He stood at the kitchen window until 
the grocer’s boy came to take the orders. Then 
he hailed him. 

4 4 Jim,” he said, 4 4 when you come back with 
the things, I wish you’d bring me a box, will 


you?” 


44 Whatkind of a box?” asked Jim. 

44 0, any kind,” said Philip; 44 about so 
big,” stretching out both his arms as far as he 
could; 44 only please let it be a very strong one, 
^as I want it particularly for something.” 

" When the box came, Philip dragged it out 
under a big tree which stood in the back yard 



His Christmas Turkey 63 

cap and his mittens, got a hatchet, a pocketful 
of nails, and an old, rusty hand-saw, and set 
about knocking one end out of the box, and 
demolishing things generally. 

More than once he pounded his thumb and 
had to stop and pull off his mitten to ascertain 
the extent of the damage done; but he wasn’t 
to be daunted by any accident so trivial, and 
worked away as diligently as though he really 
knew what he was doing. 

The artist, disturbed by the noise, put his 
head out of the window to find the cause. 

“What on earth is that child doing now?” 
he said to himself, when he caught sight of Philip 
standing in the midst of the flying chips and 
laying about him with his hatchet like a wood- 
man. Then closing the window softly, he 
came down stairs, crossed the alley, and leaned 
over the fence. 

“Look here, youngster,” he said suddenly, 
“do you know you’re making an awful racket? 
You’ll break every pane of glass on the square, ” 


64 


His Christmas Turkey 


Philip turned around, and was overcome 
with confusion when he found himself observed. 

“I’ll be done in just a minute now,” he said, 
nervously, “as soon as I get these two boards 
nailed on.” 

“What are you making, anyhow?” said the 
artist; “a barn?” 

Philip shook his head. “No,” he answered 
solemnly; “a trap.” 

The artist opened his eyes wide. “A trap? 
gibing to catch mice in it?” 
i} Philip again shook his head v ry decidedly. 
“No; a turkey, a wild turkey,” he hastened 



% explain, seeing that the artist looked sur- 
prised. “I read about them in a book I’ve 
got. If you’ll wait, I’ll show it to you.” 

He ran into the house, and came back al- 
most immediately with the animal and bird 
book. He climbed on the fence beside the 
artist, spread the book open on his knees, and 
turned the pages hastily. 

“Here it is,” he said at last, pointing to the 









His Christmas Turkey 

picture of a very highly-colored and freakish- 
looking bird; “and this is what it says about f y 
’em.” Pointing out each word with his lit- 
tle mittened hand, he read slowly: 

“A Wild Turkey. — It is a native of North 
America.” 

“We live in North America, don’t we?” he 
inquired. 

“I believe we do,” said the artist; and Philip 
went on: 

“Is a native of North America. Its plum- 
age is very bright. It eats insects, seeds, young 
frogs, and corn. It roosts in trees, and is 
sometimes caught in traps.” 

“And so,” said the artist, when Philip fin- 
ished reading, “you think you can catch a wild 
turkey, do you? Have you ever seen any 
around here?” 

“No,” Philip admitted that he never had; 

“but then I never looked for any before,” he 
explained, “and I should think there would be 
some, because there’s a tree they could roost in. 


1 His Christmas Turkey 

\ 

1 never made a trap before,” he continued, 
looking somewhat doubtfully at the nondescript 
building he had erected; “but it’s a good, stout 
one, and I should think it would do to catch a 
turkey in, wouldn’t you?” 

The artist assured him that any self-respect- 
ing bird ought to be glad to be caught in such 
a trap, and Philip looked relieved. 

“I hope I can catch one,” he said, with a 
little sigh, leaning his chin on his hand, “be- 
cause if I don’t, we’re not going to have any 
turkey at our house.” 

“Well, of course, I couldn’t say certainly,” 
replied the artist, “but Pve suspected for a long 
time that this alley abounded in some sort of 
wild game, and if you have luck to-night we’ll 
go hunting every little while; Pve got a gun.” 

Philip winced at the implied disbelief, and 
the artist hastened to reassure him. 

“You go on,” he said, more seriously, as he 
lifted the little boy off the fence, “and set your 


























































His Christmas Turkey 


7 1 


trap, and if there’s a wild turkey in this part of 
the country, I bet he’ll find it.” 

That night the most unaccountable sounds 
floated out through the keyhole of the artist’s 
room. The landlady was filled with apprehen- 
sion. She ran up and down stairs, and flut- 
tered about on the landing, in a state of the 
greatest excitement. \\ 

“Hold on there,” she heard the artist say 
“I’m not goin’ to hurt you; keep still, can’t 
you?” And then he chuckled, and there followed 
much flapping of wings and a volley of angry 
gobbles. 

The landlady knew better than to question 
the doings of her eccentric lodger. So she 
went up to her room, and locked herself in. 

“If anybody’s found dead in the morning,” 
she said, “I wash my hands of the whole 
affair;” and she went to bed, and pulled the 
covers up around her head to shut out the 
sounds. 

It was 



7 2 


His Christmas Turkey 


when Philip awoke, and sat up in bed, having 
satisfied himself that it was really getting day- 
light. He dressed himself, and crept softly 
into the quiet kitchen. There is something 
solemn about the gray stillness of the very early 
morning, and as Philip unlocked the back door 
and stood on the steps, he felt a little bit lonely 
and afraid. 

There was a light fall of snow on the 
ground. The air was filled with flying flakes, 
which stung his cheeks sharply. A little 
streak of red was beginning to show in the 
east, and somewhere, far away, he heard a 
chicken crow sleepily. 

He put Jane’s shawl over his head, and 
stumbled down the path in the direction of his 
trap. Suddenly he stopped. Was that a gobble? 
Philip’s legs nearly gave way with excitement, 
and his heart pounded like a runaway horse. 
The gobble sounded again, and he flew around 
the corner of the wood-house. Then, with a 
little scream of delight, he dropped down in 




































































































































His Christmas Turkey 75 


the snow; for there in the trap, flopping and 
kicking about, was the biggest turkey he had 
ever seen. A wild turkey. Philip was sure of that. 

He had some trouble in getting hold of the 
unwieldy prisoner; but at last he gathered it 
up in his arms, and started for the house, with 
one of its wings hanging over his shoulder, and 
the other trailing on the ground. He had to 
drop it two or three times in order to rest him- 
self, and if this discreet turkey hadn’t been 
thoughtful enough to tie its legs together before 
it ensnared itself, it certainly would have escaped. 

Philip finally reached the house after much 
struggling. He burst open the door, and drop- 
ped his treasure on the kitchen floor. 

“Mamma! Jane! come here quick!” he 
panted. 

Jane came running in a state of partial neg- 
ligee, and then his mother. 

“What’s the matter? whatJs it?” she cried,' V/ 
catching him up in her arms. “Where di 1 


come from?” 



76 His Christmas Turkey 

And then, witn much hysterical sobbing and 
laughing, Philip hid his face on his mother’s 
shoulder, and the whole story came out; how 
he had read about the wild turkey, and had set a 
trap to catch one to surprise his mother and Jane; 
how the artist had come down and talked to him, 
and expressed a great interest in the scheme, 

“And it is a wild turkey, you know,” said 
Philip, in conclusion, “ ’cause just look at its 
feathers, how bright they are!” 

If bright feathers established its right to wild 
turkey-hood, there could be little doubt as to 
the identity of the phenomenal bird flopping 
about on the floor. Never did a bird of para- 
dise possess such brilliant plumage. Its legs 
were a deep crimson, and its feet were gilded; 
one wing was green, and the other pink. It 
gloried in a flaming yellow tail, a blue head, 
and a bright lavender back. Its patriotism was 
established by its “red, white, and blue breast,” 
and a most suspicious odor of fresh paint hung 








MM.,.,- vtv I- • »-- 


■»»V 




'• . ' 7 







79 


His Christmas Turkey 


Jane laughed, and Philip’s mother looked 
as if she wanted to; but she didn’t. She lifted 
the turkey up on the table instead, and the last 
doubt as to its pedigree was done away with by 
a little note which she found tied under its wing, 
and which said: 

“I am a wild turkey, and a native of North 
America. My plumage is very bright. I roost 
in trees, eat insects, seeds, young frogs, and 
corn, and am sometimes caught in traps. I 
am tired of life, and want to be eaten. 

“Sincerely, T. Gobbler.” 

Some people thought it wasn’t quite nice in 
Philip’s mother to ask the artist over to dinner; 
but I think it was, and so did the artist, for he 
went and took a bag of oranges with him. 
And so did the turkey; for if ever a turkey ex- 
erted itself to make a Christmas dinner a suc- 
cess, and poured out its soul in gravy, that 
turkey did. 







It Worries Me 


DENIGHTED bird, 




Your voice is heard 


Before the break of day! 
Do you not see 
It worries me, 

^ o be disturbed this way? 







/^\H, look in all the dresser-drawers, 

And underneath them, too; 
Grandfather’s lost his glasses, 

And doesn’t know what to do! 

And look behind the closet-door, 

And on the parlor shelf; 

66 There! never mind,” grandfather says, 



(82) 





« 








1 















Little Lady, Come and Play 


u 


T ITTLE lady on the stile, 

^ Come and play with me awhile. 

Come with me across the meadows 
Through the sunshine and the shadows — 
Through the sunlight and the shade 
Where the apple-blooms are made. 

On a thistle-down we’ll go 
Where the red-eyed daisies grow; 





Where the rainbow meets the ground 
And a pot of gold is found. 

You can watch us paint it, too, 

Green and yellow, red and blue. 

Little lady, come and play ! 

You can churn the milky way; 

You can see the fairy king 
Threading dewdrops on a string; 

I’m not sure you understand — 

May be you can kiss his hand. 
Wouldn’t that be lots of fun? 

Leave your milking, dear, and come.'’ 


( 86 ) 



Little Lady, Come and Play 


“Oh, I thank you, litde fairy; 
They will need me in the dairy, 
Where I have to take a turn, 
With my mother at the churn, 
Making butter fresh and sweet. 
For the minister to eat.” 



1 * 7 ) 


$f SN ' N \ 



Always Dinner Time 

I 

^TT’S dreadful,” she said, with a sigh, 

1 “Pm so hungry I fear I shall die! 

They don’t realize 
That a girl of my size 
Requires a great deal of pie.” 

II 

“ What’s that?” she heard some one de- 
mand — 

She never could quite understand; 

Stare hard as she would 
Before her there stood 
A prince with a pie in his hand. 

( 88 ) 



ays Dinner Time 



III 


He told her if she’d be his wife, 

She could eat custard-pie with a knife; 
And could help herself twice 
To everything nice, 

And do nothing but eat all her life. 


IV 


So they rode till they came to a gate 
With this legend upon a brass plate: 
“You should not put away 
What you might eat to-day,” 

And she ate and she ate and she a*te. 


V 


And she ate ’till she got like a ball, 
And her eyes they got dreadfully small; 



(89) 




Always Dinner Time 


She grew out of her clothes, 
And as for her nose — 

She didn’t have any at all. 

VI 





She set out in this wonderful plight, 
And arrived at her home after night. 
And her father said, “Ben, 

Here’s the pig out again!” 

Then she woke in a terrible fright. 




\ 







Grandpa’s Little Man 


* OODNESS, me! whose little man? 
Give grandpa a kiss. 

Please to tell us, Mary Ann, 

What gentleman is this?” 

Through the day the gentleman 
Gets in many a scrape, 

And comes home at supper time, 
Sadly out of shape. 




Grandpa’s Little Man 


u Gracious goodness! Mary Ann, 
Where ’d you get this tramp? 
I don’t know this beggar-man. 
Take away the scamp!” 


The Baker’s Son 


'T'HE whole day long the baker’s son 
1 Did sit apart and mutter: 

“I know the moon is made of cheese, 
Or else a roll of butter. 

I’ll mount my father’s roof to-night 
And with my father’s rake, 

I’ll jerk me off a little bite — 

They won’t miss what I take.” 


The Baker’s Son 


The evening meal had just begun — 
’Twas in the misty twilight — 

When little John, the baker’s son, 
Came crashing through the skylight. 

“O, mother, don’t mind me,” he cried, 
“I shall be better soon — 

Have father gather up these stars 
While you pick up the moon.” 



(96) 





















L.ofC. 









How Annetta Was Cured 

A N NETT A loved Tom very much; per- 
** haps because nobody else had ever loved 
him, for he was an old cat, not at all pleasing 
to look at, and somewhat cross even to her. 
(ioi) 


:c2 How Annetta Was Cured 


He was black and white and yellow spotted; 
a little bit of his tail had been snipped off in 
the trap and he had lost part of one ear in a 
street fight; for he had an unpleasant disposi- 
tion and was always getting himself into diffi- 
culties. Ever since he was a little kitten, he 
had been a source of great anxiety to his mother 
on account of the late hours and low company 
that he kept, and, fit the tender age of six weeks, 
with a defiant toss of his little tail, he shook 
off all maternal restraint and became a tramp. 
Ilis mother grieved pitifully over his loss. “ Who 
would think,” said the people she lived with, 
“that with five kittens left, she would miss one so 
much?” But the mother looked tenderly at the 
five that were left, and could not keep back her 
tears. “It’s worse than if he had been drowned 
in his innocent kittyhood,” she sighed to a 
neighbor cat who tried to console her; “for if he 
were drowned, I’d know that dogs and bad boys 
couldn’t get him.” As for Tom, for a long 
time he wandered about the streets picking up 




* 






















How Annetta Was Cured 



what he could find to eat, and sleeping under 
culverts or in door-ways. 

This was not a pleasant life to lead, for dogs 
chased him and boys threw stones at him, and 
he was often very tired and hungry. One 
gloomy evening he came out of an alley, and 
after looking about him for a little while, 
turned into a narrow side street. It had been 
raining hard all the afternoon, and now as the 
twilight came on it was more dismal than ever. 
Dirty drops of water chased each other down 
the dusty shop windows; little muddy torrents 
went surging along the gutters; and there were 
many puddles on the uneven sidewalk. 

It had been a hard day for Tom. He was 
strolling along slowly, thinking of a number of 
things and keeping Kis eye out for a good 
opening for a mouser, when he met Jamie and 
Annetta. They had a very large umbrella 
over them, and a very little sack of cheese be- 
tween them, out of which from time to time 
they each took a small bite; and when An- 


io6 How Annetta Was Cured 



U 


netta saw the hungry old cat, she stooped down 
and laid a morsel of the cheese on the sidewalk 
before him. When he had eaten that, she 
gave him another piece, and as she seemed to 
be such a kind little girl, Tom decided to fol- 
low her home and live with her for a while. 

■/ This arrangement was very agreeable to An- 
netta, but Annetta’s mother didn’t enter into 
it with the enthusiasm that Tom could have 
wished. She said he was an ugly cat and had 
a wicked look out of his eye; and once when 
he was sleeping on the back steps, she swept 
him off with the broom. But Annetta over- 
looked all his faults and considered him the 
embodiment of feline perfection. She never 
forgot to put his meals on a little tin plate in 
the back yard; it was Annetta who smoothed 
his rough fur and picked the burrs out of his 
tail when he came in from a long tramp no- 
body knew where. 

Tom was very sensible of this kindness, 
and laid many mice at. the little girl’s feet, 




W&i 

































How Annetta Was Cured 109 

as tokens of his gratitude. And once he 
brought her a little dead bird. Then An- 
netta scolded him, and that afternoon she 
and Jamie buried the bird in the back yard 
with much funeral pomp, and they tied a black 
veil over Tom’s head and made him march in 
the procession as chief mourner. After that he 
ate his birds away from home. 

Tom had been staying at Annetta’s for 
about two months, when one morning as Jamie 
was crawling through the fence to show his 
new overalls with straps across the back, almost 
like suspenders, Annetta’s mother called to 
him and said: 

“Don’t come over to-day, for we are afraid 
Annetta is taking the scarlet fever.” By ev- 
ening the news was confirmed, and a little yel- 
low flag was hung out; and then Annetta’s 
mother called across the fence again and said: 

“Annetta wants to know if Jamie will take 
care of the cat while she is sick.” 

Now, this was not a pleasant task for the 


_j!l, V c*r 




no How Annetta Was Cured 


little boy, for he and Tom had never been the 
best of friends. He undertook it very cheer- 
fully, however, for he was in the habit of obey- 
ing Annetta implicitly, and, after all, he was a 
little bit proud of the trust. 

He followed the old cat around from morn- 
SAing till night. He arranged his meals as he 
had seen Annetta do. He was not happy if 
his charge was out of his sight for a moment, 

y and Tom’s reckless habits and wild ways wor- 
ried him so that his little face took on a worn 
and anxious look. 

The only real peace he got was in the even- 
ing when he had seen Tom eat his supper 
and stretch himself out to sleep in the pleas- 
ant twilight; then, after feeling his nose to 
see if it was cool (for Annetta, who knew a 
great deal about cats, had told him that as 
long as a cat’s nose was cold no anxiety 
need be felt about his health) he would sit 
:cj4Vn wearily on the back steps, feeling that he 
'had done his duty for that day, and could give 


A? 


/ 









How Annetta Was Cured n 3 


a good report to Annetta; for every morning 
Annetta would print in very large letters on 
her slate, How is T, To-day? and her mother 
would hang it up in the window. And Jamie 
would print a very abbreviated list of Tom’ 
doings for the day on his slate and hang it 
in his window, and in this way they kept each 
other posted. 

Annetta had been ill about a week, when 
one evening after he had his supper and had 
his nose felt to the satisfaction of Jamie, Tom, 
disappeared through a hole in the back fenc Sj 
in company with a disreputable looking whit©/ 
cat who lived with an old lady in the nexi 
square. All that night he didn’t return 
and when Jamie got up in the morning, h^ 
found the cat’s little box with a piece of old 
comfort in it, cold and empty. 

The little boy climbed upon the back fence and 
looked this way and that. At last, he was relieved 
to see the old cat coming slowly down the alley. 
He crawled through the fence feebly and lay 


XI 4 How Annetta Was Cured 

down in the shade as though he were very tired. 
Then he got up and ran around and around, 
and jumped over an old chair and yowled, and 
bristled out his tail. Jamie was running after 
him trying to catch him, when his mother 
came hurrying out of the kitchen and cried: 

“Come into the house, Jamie, I am afraid the 
poor cat has a fit.” 

The little boy stopped short and leaned 
against the fence. It seemed too dreadful to 
be true! What would Annetta say, and how 
could he answer her anxious inquiries about 
her pet? But that morning no slate ap- 
peared in Annetta’ s window, and the little 
girl would not have known her old cat if 
he had jumped upon her bed. He might have 
laid any number of choice mice at her feet and 
received no caressing pat from her little hot 
hands. 

J amie wandered disconsolately about the yard , 
trying to think of some way out of his difficul- 
ties. He wished Annetta were there to advise 







W: 




mix 






m 


• 


















How Annetta Was Cured 117 


him; but one thing was sure, Tom had been 
entrusted to his especial care and must be 
cured. So that afternoon he tied a string 
about the cat’s neck and led him out into the 
street. As they passed by the house where 
the owner of the rabbit lived, they saw him 
sitting on his steps with his chin buried in his 
hands. He spoke to Jamie very kindly: 

“ Where are you going?” he asked. 

“I am taking Tom to a doctor,” Jamie re- 
plied promptly. “He has had a fit.” 

The owner of the rabbit was interested at 
once. He came down to the fence and looked 
at the invalid. 

“What made him have it?” he said. 

James shook his head. 

“Maybe he went and ate a lot of raw beef 
steak,” suggested the boy. 

“No he didn’t,” said Jamie decidedly, “for 
I have only been feeding him scraps and things, 
just the way Annetta told me to.” 

Here Tom put his paw to his face and smiled 



How Annetta Was Cured 


for he knew very well that he and the white 
cat had stolen a large steak from the old lady, 
and eaten it all the very night before. 

“Do you know what would be good for 
him?” Jamie went on in an anxious tone. 

The boy made a hasty mental review of his 
list of remedies; after thinking deeply for a 
while he asked: 

“Have you tried burying a pin?” 

“A what?” said Jamie, and even Tom raised 
the hair on his back, for he thought it possible 
that the pin was to be buried in him. He was 
much relieved to hear that it was only to be 
put under the ground at a cross-road. 

“It’s good for warts,” the boy continued, 
“but I don’t know whether it will do him any 
good or not. If a cat’s fitty, there ain’t any- 
thing much you can do for him, anyhow. And 
that cat looks ’s if he might be.” 

Jamie’s heart sank as he hurried Tom away. 
He knew exactly where he was going, for once 
when he and Annetta had gone down town to 


How Annetta Was Cured 119 


see a parade, they had stopped to rest in a door- 
way, where Annetta had said there lived a great 
doctor, who cured thousands of people every 
day, she guessed; and as she seemed to have 
such a high opinion of his ability, Jamie had 
at once decided that this practitioner should try 
his skill upon Tom. 

He found the place without much difficulty. 
The stone steps to the office felt very hot to his 
little bare feet, as he trudged sturdily up them 
with the cat in his arms. 

With a beating heart he went into the wait- 
ing-room and sat down in a leather covered 
chair, with Tom on his lap. How many peo- 
ple there were, coming and going all the 
time! Jamie wondered if they were all sick, 
and if any of them had the scarlet fever. There 
were no other cats there, but surely a doctor 
who could cure a person could cure a cat. 

For a long time he sat there, and the sunshine 
grew more and more slanting as it streamed 
through the window and made little dancing 


120 How Annetta Was Cured 


patterns on the floor. By and by the people went 
away, and then a door opened and the doctor 
himself came out. He was an old man with a 
high shining hat. There were so many charms 
upon his watch chain that they jingled when 
he walked. He carried a little brass bound 
medicine case under his arm, and was putting 
on his gloves as he came. When he saw the 
little boy he stopped and looked down at him. 

“Are you lost?” he said, “or are you wait- 
ing for someone?” 

“No, sir,” Jamie replied, swallowing a lump 
in his throat. “I’ve come to get some medi- 
cine for Tom, he has had a fit. He ist ran 
’round and ’round and nobody could ketch 
him.” 

There was a typewriter girl in the office 
who, when he held up the cat, put her hand- 
kerchief to her mouth and left the room. 

“She needn’t be afraid,” said the little boy, 
contemptuously, “they ain’t ketchin’ . Me and 


mm*.. 

















How Annetta Was Cured 123 

Annetta ’ve played with Tom for weeks and 
weeks, and we ain’t ever had any.” 

u How many has your cat had?” asked the 
the old man. 

“He isn’t my cat,” Jamie explained, “he is 
Annetta’s cat, and I am taking care of him 
until she gets well. She is the little girl that 
lives beside of me and she is awful sick. I 
’spect she’s goin’ to die. She has got the 
scarlet fever, and is ist as speckled all over,” 
and Jamie waved his arms to show how com- 
pletely the dire disease had laid hold of An- 
netta. The doctor looked into the little boy’s 
anxious face for a moment, and a queer look 
came over his own kind face as he turned 
quickly and went into his private office. Pres- 
ently he returned with some powders done into 
a neat little parcel. 

“You’re to give him one of these,” he said, 
“if he shows any signs of being sick again. 
Let him drink all the milk he wants, and I 
think your cat will be all right.” 


I2 4 How Annetta Was Cured 



6 

(r'2 


Jamie took the powders in his hand, and 
worked himself down off the chair. “I haven’t 
any money to pay you for this now,” he said, 
“for me and Annetta spent all our money for a 
rabbit, but I shall have a quarter Christmas, 
and I will bring you that. Annetta will have 
a quarter, too, and I ’spect I could get that for 
you too.” 

“I usually do a cash business,” said the old 
gentleman, stroking his chin, “but under the 
circumstances we will let it go. It’s always a 
good thing to have money coming in at Christ- 
mas time. Wait,” he called, as the little 
boy started out the door, “I’m going to drive 
home, and if you will show me where you live, 
I will put you out there.” 

Jamie could hardly believe that he heard 
aright, and it was not until he and his cat had 
been lifted into the doctor’s rubber-tired road- 
cart that he gave himself up to the pleasure of 
the situation. He leaned far back in the cush- 
ioned seat, with his little feet straight out in 

























































































































How Annetta Was Cured I2 7 


front of him. And all the way he kept his 
hand on Tom’s nose, lest the excitement should 
recall the trouble of the morning. And what 
a ride that was! How skilfully the old man 
guided his high stepping horse through the 
crowded streets, going just close enough to 
other vehicles to make things exciting, but not 
close enough to cause any accidents. 

Jamie hoped that the owner of the rabbit 
might be in a position to see his triumph, and 
the effect produced upon this young man came 
up to his highest expectations. It was getting 
dark now, and the lights were beginning to 
wink in all the shop windows; as they turned 
into the little street where Jamie lived, he saw 
his mother walking anxiou : up and down the 
sidewalk. At last Jamie was helped out, still 
grasping the precious medicine in his little 
sweaty fist. 

“And now,” said the doctor briskly, 
“where does the little girl live?” But before 
Jamie had time to answer, he had caught sight 


128 How Annetta Was Cured 


of the yellow flag, and was taking himself, 
his high hat and his little brass-bound medicine 



case straight up the path, and was knocking at 
Annetta’s door. 

When Annetta’s mother opened the door, he 
went in and closed it very softly behind him. 
If the neighbors in that little street were sur- 
prised to see the great doctor’s turnout before 
Annetta’s house, they had to get over it, for it 
appeared there again and again; and at last the 
hateful flag was taken down, and there came 
the joyful news that Annetta was very much 
better, and would soon be able to resume her 
work out in the bakery, which she meant to 
enlarge and carry on in a finer style than ever. 

Then, one happy day, Jamie’s mothei told 
him if he would be very good, he might go 
over in the morning to see Annetta. He and 
Tom were up very early that morning. The 
little boy smoothed the cat’s rough fur and 
fastened a bow of green tissue paper around 


How Annetta Was Cured I2 9 




his neck, so that he might look very smart and 
well cared for. 

Then he polished up a piece of blue glass 
he had found in the alley and wrapped it in 
a little piece of newspaper. This gem he 
meant to present to Annetta to look at the 
sun through, and when all was finished he 
sat down and folded his little hands in quiet 
joy until the time should come to go. When / 
at last it did come, he found Annetta sitting' 
in her rocking chair beside the window. She^ 
thanked him for his present, and greeted^ 
him very kindly, but in a lofty and dign 



manner befitting a little girl who has just re- 
covered from the scarlet fever; and while he 
was standing before her, feeling a little bit 
strange and awkward, the kitchen door opened 
and Annetta’s mother came in. 

She had been busy washing, for she had her 
sleeves rolled up, and was wiping her hands on 
her apron. She didn’t say a word but just knelt 
down and took the little boy and the big cat in 


130 How Annetta Was Cured 


her arms, and kissed Jamie a great many 
times; yes, and she kissed Tom, too, and 
looked so funny, that for a moment Jamie 
thought she was going to cry; on reflection he 
decided that this was a mistake, for you know 
there was nothing to cry about, now, here An- 
netta was cured; and Tom, I have heard, has 
been perfectly well from that day to this. 







The Genius 

M Y drawing may be out of line; 
But then that idea of mine, 
Of transposing the nose, 

So that all the face shows, 

I think is exceedingly fine. ,s 




^ A inT 7 ' 





Mother’s Little Man 


D OWN across the meadows, 
Through the crimson foam 
Of the clover blossoms, 

They are coming home. 

On the hill the cattle 
Purple shadows throw 
Down to little Herbert 
In the vale below. 

Mounted on old Dolly, 

Sturdy legs astride, — 
Never did a charger 

Bear such weight of pride. 

At the door his mother 
Says: “Well! I declare, 
Where’s the man like Herbert, 
Any, any where ! ’ ’ 









The Oak Tree’s Secret 


TN a certain forest there grew an Oak Tree. 

He was so very large and tall that his head 
towered high above the tops of all the other 
trees, and he could look down upon the sur- 
rounding country and see the hills and valleys 
spread out before him like a picture. He could 
see the people working in their fields, and the 
patient horses going wearily up and down, 
dragging the plows after them, and sometimes, 
on pleasant summer afternoons, he could look 
far away into the purple distance, to where the 
tops of other forest trees were tossing and 
shining in the sunlight. 

Everything that grew in the woods loved 
the great Oak, because he was so dignified 
and strong. They held him in much re- 
spect, also, on account of his great age, and 

037 ) 




138 The Oak Tree’s Secret 


asked his opinion upon all matters of im- 
portance. If a little sprout fell ill, the anx- 
ious mother tree hurried to him for counsel, 
and many a crooked young sapling had turned 
over a new leaf, and grown into a straight and 
upright tree, all on account of the old Oak's 
good advice. 

Then, too, he was an interesting talker, 
and afforded his friends much entertainment; 
for when night drew on and the village 
people were locked safely in their houses, and 
the moon was sailing high above the waving 
branches, then all the little creatures in the 
woods came out and sat in a pleasant circle 
about the roots of the great tree and warmed 
their little feet in a ra}^ of moonlight and listened, 
while he told them marvelous stories of things 
that had happened years and years ago. 

Of Indians who came marching through the 
forest paths with their painted faces and their 
bows and arrows, and of robbers who had crept 
stealthily under his dark branches and pounted 











The Oak Tree’s Secret 


141 


their store and treasure there. But, however 
reminiscent he grew, there was one story the 
Oak Tree never told, for that was his own secret 
and he kept and guarded it safely, folding it 
closer and closer in his staunch old heart, until 
the children found it out. 

Perhaps the ants had some suspicion of it, 
as they ran busily up and down the bark, car- 
rying their little bundles, or maybe the wind 
guessed it as he went roaming about among 
the leaves, but it is quite certain the Oak 
Tree never mentioned it. Of course, the 
squirrels knew all about it, for they lived in 
the hollow trunk of the tree ; but then he 
knew he could trust them, for they had al- 
ways been the best of friends. In fact it was 
an ancestor of the present inhabitant who had 
planted the acorn from which the Oak grew. 

Now on the edge of the village there stood 
a very little house, and that was where Herbert 
and Elsie had come to live with their grand- 




142 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


The Grandfather was a very old man. His 
hair was white and his face was brown and 
wrinkled, and all day long he sat bending ovei 
his bench, making and mending shoes for the 
village people. He was very poor, too; that is, 
he had no money and had to work hard for his 
living — but the sun was bright that shone in at 
the little shop window, and when it rained 
Elsie found fine material for mud-pies in a ditch 
directly in front of the Grandfather’s house, 
and the children’s faces grew round and bright 
as they played up and down the road and un- 
der the forest trees. 

They soon grew to be great friends of the 
Oak Tree, and he became very fond of them 
and watched for their coming, for every after- 
noon when the weather was fine they came to 
play under his branches. 

Sometimes they would make swings there 
and sometimes the little girl, who was learning 
to sew, would bring her work; then the 
old tree would look down at her quite proudly 



X- 















The Oak Tree’s Secret H5 

while she took very long stitches and very 
small bits of calico, — for she was piecing a quilt. 
And so the summer went by. It was a day in 
the early fall and it had been raining so hard 
that the children could not play under the trees, 
but had to stay in the shop and keep their 
Grandfather company. As it grew dark the 
Grandfather was bending close over his work, 
and the children sitting on two little stools were 
watching him, when suddenly the awl slipped 
and the point went directly into the old man’s 
hand. 

Now that was the beginning of very hard 
times at the shoemaker’s little house. The 
work-bench had to be pushed back against the 
wall and for many days the old man sat idly 
beside the window with his bandaged hand in 
a sling. 

Sometimes he would go into the woods with 
the children ; then he would sit with his back 
leaning against the Oak Tree and watch the 
children while they played. 


146 The Oak Tree’s Secret 


The Oak Tree looked down at him, and 
felt very sorry for him, for he knew the Grand- 
father was in trouble. 

One morning as they were returning home 
they saw a strange man leaning over the fence 
and looking at the little house as though he 
had some special interest in it. 

|;;j 4 4 Who is that man?” asked the little boy. 
y| 44 Never mind,” answered the Grandfather 
I pervously; “you children go on into the house. 
I’ll be along directly.” 

v But the children did not go so far but they 
overheard the conversation. 

4 4 I’ve come about the mortgage,” said the 
stranger, turning shortly upon the little Grand- 
father. 

4 4 Yes, I know,” the old man answered. 44 1 
had hoped you would wait on me a little while 
longer. You see I’ve had bad luck. I had 
expected to pay some on it before this.” 

“That’s the way,” said the man harshly. 
“You people are always expecting to do things, 














The Oak Tree’s Secret 


149 


but you never do them. We can’t afford to let 
things go on this way forever. We’ll give you 
another week. If you can’t raise the mortgage 
off the house, we’ll have to sell it.” Then he 
jumped into his buggy and drove away. 

“What is a mortgage, anyway?” whispered 
the little girl as they went into the house. 

“I don’t know,” said the little boy. “It must 
be something like an umbrella; he said we’d 
have to raise it.” 

“Grandfather,” said Elsie that day at dinner, 
“if Herbert and I had that long ladder of 
Williams’s, we could get up and take that 
thing off the house, — your hand’s so sore.” 

“Nevermind,” said the Grandmother cheer- 
fully. “It’s a kind of debt and it takes money to 
get that off the house, but it will all come right 
somehow. You children go and play and be 
happy.” Then she tied the little girl’s sun- 
bonnet carefully under her chin, patted the 
little boy on the back and started them off. 

But somehow they could not play that after- 


‘50 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


noon; the responsibilities of the household lay 
too heavily on them, and they sat so very still 
under the Oak Tree he thought they must have 
gone to sleep, so he dropped an acorn down to 
wake them up. 

4 ‘Elsie,” said Herbert suddenly turning 
round, “how much does it take to get that 
off the house?” 

“I don’t know,” said the little girl shaking 
her head, “but it takes a lot of money.” 

“Well, whatever it is,” said Herbert, with a 
determined air, “we’ve got to make it.” 

Elsie put her small elbows on her knees and 
looked out of her sunbonnet to argue the point. 

“How are we going to do it?” she said. 

“Sell things,” answered the little boy, con- 
fidently; “rags and bones.” 

This seemed to Elsie a very good plan, for 
if there was any profit in bones they surely 
needn’t lack for money. They sat under the 
tree until very late, talking of their scheme 
with much enthusiasm. \ 



r 






I 

I 




# 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


i53 


It was several days before they came to play 
again under the Oak Tree, and he felt very 
lonely without them. He could see them from 
time to time, however, moving about their own 
yard, and up and down the road, with their 
gaze bent intently on the ground, stooping now 
and then to pick up a fine bone, which they 
carried away and hid in a certain fence corner. 

Then, early one morning, he saw them start' 
out in the direction of the village. Their search 
had evidently been quite successful, for they 
had a very large sack with them. It was a 
heavy sack, too, and as they dragged it along 
the dusty road their backs were bent double. 

By and by he saw them returning. They had 
disposed of their wares and now came walking 
erect and briskly. They did not go on into the 
house, but climbed the fence and came directly 
to the Oak Tree. 

“Now,” said the little girl, indicating a cer- 
tain spot with her bare toe, “we’ll bury it here. 
This will be the safest place, and when the 


154 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


week is up we’ll dig it up and give it to Grand- 
mother. Won’t she be s’prised?” 

Then when they had dug a little hole in the 
ground with a sharp stick, Elsie carefully untied 
her handkerchief and poured in a miscellaneous 
collection of copper coins, which they covered 
up very smoothly. 

After that, for several afternoons, they came 
and sat over their treasure in silent joy. At 
last one day, as they were leaving, the little 
girl looked up into the Oak Tree and said : 
“You take good care of our money to-night, 
for in the morning we are coming to dig it up.” 

Then when they went away — such very little 
children they were — the old tree had to bend 
down even its very lowest branch in order to 
pat them on the head as they passed under it. 

That night the queerest thing happened in 
the forest. The trees talk about it to this day, 
and wonder at it. When the little creatures 
came out and begged the old tree for a story, as 
usual, he seemed to be preoccupied and com- 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


*55 


plained of a slight pain in one of his limbs ; 
and later on he called the squirrel up and they 
talked together for some time. Then the squirrel 
went running back and wakened up his wife. 

“We’ll have to be moving out,” he said, in 
an agitated voice. 

“Why, what’s the matter?” said the mother 
squirrel, sitting up in bed so that her night- 
capped head cast a queer shadow on the walls 
of the old tree. But when her husband leaned 
over and whispered something in her ear, she 
got up with the greatest alacrity and hurried 
the children out into the air. It was none too 
soon either, for the little ones were still stand- 
ing around rubbing their eyes sleepily, when 
suddenly the old Oak Tree began to toss and 
sway about in the most surprising manner. 

To be sure, the wind had risen and black 
clouds were being blown about the sky, but 
surely the storm was not sufficient to agitate the 
great tree so. 

“What can be the matter with the Oak?” 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


156 

said all the other trees. 4 4 See how he’s being 
blown about.” 

4 4 He must be ill,” said a kind little catnip 
bush. 4 4 I’d make him a cup of strengthening tea 
if I thought it would help him.” 

4 4 Perhaps if he would put a slippery-elm 
poultice on his back, it would do him good,” 
suggested a stately elm tree. 

44 I don’t know whether it would fit his case 
or not,” said a wild-cherry tree, 4 Tut you do 
make excellent poultices. When my son here” 
— and she laid her branch fondly upon a sap- 
ling growing near — 4 4 was very young, he had 
such a severe knot on one of his limbs we 
were afraid it was going to bring on a growth of 
lichen, but one of your poultices cured him in 
a remarkably short time.” 

But all these suggestions did not help the 
Oak Tree. As the wind blew harder he shook 
and trembled so, the ants went skurrying away 
from his roots to find a place of safety. Suddenly 
he threw his head high up into the air and took 



The Oak Tree’s Secret 


a last look about him. Far down the road he 
could see the dim outline of the shoemaker’s 
little house. A tiny light shone in one of the 
windows and he knew the children were sleep- 
ing there. 

Then there was another gust of wind and a 
roll of thunder. Before it had died away, there 
came such a sharp, cracking sound that all the 
trees threw up their branches in alarm. The 
very next moment the Oak Tree, that had out- 
lived so many storms, broke short off near its 
roots and fell heavily to the ground. 

It was very early in the morning when the 
children crept softly from the house and took 
their way into the woods. The trees had 
scarcely settled down after the excitement of 
the night before, and the leaves were still 
whispering about it among themselves. The 
birds were telling each other sharp, quick good- 
mornings from the branches, and the rising sun 
was just beginning to send long slanting beams 
between the trunks of the trees. The children 



*58 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


looked about at first a little bit apprehensively, 
then they took each other’s hands and started 
along the well known path. All at once the 
little boy stopped short. 

“Oh! Look, Elsie, the Oak Tree! it’s blown 
down ! ” 

“Right over our money, too,” cried the little 
girl. “How’ll we ever get it? ’’ 

Then they ran on again, scrambling over 
slippery logs and through the wet weeds. They 
went right up to the fallen tree, but their united 
strength could not move it, and the little boy 
was leaning dejectedly against it, when sud- 
denly he gave a little cry and reached down 
into the hollow stump, for there it was he found 
it — “The Oak Tree’s Secret.” Who had put 
it there, or how long it had been there, nobod)’ 
ever knew. But far down in the heart of the 
old tree it lay, almost hidden among the dry 
y leaves — a little pile of gold; bright, shining, 
yellow gold. ^ 

£> Then Elsie held her little apron with trem- 

<o> 



- V. . < 






The Oak Tree’s Secret 


1 6 1 


bling hands, and Herbert poured the money 
into it, and they both went running home so 
fast that the trees looked after them in aston- 
ishment and wondered what made them hurry 
so. Breathless, they burst into the house and 
threw the treasure into the bewildered Grand- 
mother’s lap. 

“See what we found in the Oak Tree!” they 
cried. Then while the old people held up their 
hands in amazement, the children told them all 
about it; and when they finished, tears of joy 
were trickling down the Grandfather’s wrinkled 
cheeks, and the Grandmother gathered the little 
boy and girl up in her arms. 

“I told you it would all come out right some- 
how,” she said. 

When the news went out through the village 
that the great tree had blown down, the people 
could hardly believe it, so they left their horses 
standing in fields and went to see if it were 
true. There was one very old man among them. 
He had a long gray beard, and had read so 


162 


The Oak Tree’s Secret 


many books he knew all about trees, so they 
stood around in respectful silence and waited 
to hear what he should say about it. 

“Why,” said this old man at last, “you can 
see for yourselves that the trunk is quite hollow. 
Tt’s no wonder that the great tree fell. The 
marvel is that it wasn’t blown down years and 
years ago.” 

Then these wise grown-ups nodded their 
heads and walked solemnly back to their vil- 
lage. 


After they had gone the children went and 
laid their little cheeks against the rough bark of 
their old friend as he lay in state on the bed 
of moss where he had fallen, and the squirrels 
looked down at them from the neighboring 
branches and waved their tails like funeral 
plumes in the air; for only the squirrels and 
the children knpw^why the great Oak Tree had 





■ v 









The Provident Old Man 


T HERE was an old man maintained 

That prevention was better than cure 
So he took an assortment of pills 
His continued good health to insure. 

Next day he lay down on his bed, 

And became so exceedingly ill 
That the doctors who treated him said 
His disease baffled medical skill. 



„ Reformation of Biddy 

£ 

^\NE day a little girl went walking down 
street. Her hair was done in two small 
shining braids, she had on such a very stiff 
gingham apron that it crackled as she walked, 
and from the erect way in which she carried 
herself you might have known that something 
of great importance was on her mind; and so 
there was, for the little girl was Annetta, and 
that morning her uncle was coming after her, 
and she was going to stay for a week with her 
grandmother. She saw a number of other 
children playing about as usual, with their 
every-day clothes on, and she looked at them 
compassionately, for she felt very sorry for all 
little girls and boys who were not going on a 
visit that day. 4 

When she returned from her errand, her un- 


1 68 


Reformation of Biddy 

cle was already waiting for her with his horse 
and buggy, and he lifted her carefully upon 
the seat beside him ; then he lifted Jamie up 
too, for he was going to ride with them as far 
as the corner. 

“And now, Annetta,” said her mother, as 
she kissed the little girl good-bye, “don’t you 
go and bring home any cats or dogs, for I 
\ won’t have them about the house.” 

“No, ma’m, I won’t,” said Annetta duti- 
fully. 

That seemed a very long week to Jamie; but 
another Saturday morning rolled around at 
last, and with it came Annetta. After her 
uncle had set her down on the ground, he 
handed out a shoe box from the seat beside 
him, which she took very carefully. It had 
holes punched in the top, and queer little peck- 
ing sounds came from it. Then Annetta’s 
mother held up her hands in horror. 

“I thought I told you,” she said, “not to 
bring any kittens or puppies with you.” 


169 


Reformation of Biddy 

“Well, I didn’t,” said Annetta stoutly 0 
“This isn’t a kitten or puppy, it’s a chicken.”. 
And so it was, a little downy chicken. 

As soon as she had kissed her mother, she 
went to show her new treasure to Jamie. He ,j 
came running to the fence with a piece of bread 
and butter in his hand, for he had not yet fin- 
ished his breakfast; and when Annetta very 
carefully lifted up the lid of the box, he peeped 
in at the little prisoner. 

“Isn’t it cute?” he said, rubbing his hands 
on his overalls. “Will it lay eggs?” 

“Not yet,” said Annetta, pitying his igno- 
rance; “it’s too little. It will when it gets big.” 

At first they kept the chicken under a tub, 
with a hole sawed in the top through which 
they could observe its actions. A number of 
other children in the neighborhood came over, 
and, stooping down, put their eyes to the hole 
and looked at the little chicken very respect- 
fully — all but Tommy Barnes, that is; when he 
thought Annetta was not looking, he tickled 


Reformation of Biddy 


170 

its legs with a straw. That was the beginning 
of the feud; then Annetta chased Tommy oul 
of the gate, and threw a bone after him. 

N “Don’t you ever dare to step your foot in 
is yard again!” she said, stamping her own 
little feet wrathfully on the ground. 

After that, Annetta and Tommy lived in a 
state of continual warfare, and when the chicken 
grew up, which she did in a remarkably short 
time, she led a miserable existence on account 
of this same little boy. When she went out 
for a pleasant morning walk in the alley, he 
teased her, and once he sicked his little yellow 
dog on her, and she had to leave a nice worm 
she had just scratched up, and run home in 
such an undignified way that all the other 
chickens laughed at her. 


Annetta and Jamie comforted her and loved 
her very much, and looked forward with great 
pleasure to the time when she should lay them 
eggs, some of which they meant to sell; others 
they would eat for their breakfast. But al- 










173 


Reformation of Biddy 

though Biddy, for that was her name, was now 
grown to be a fine large hen, she showed no 
disposition to carry out her part of the bargain. 
She seemed to realize, however, that this was 
the aim of a true hen’s life, for when a friend 
of hers laid an egg, she would rejoice with her 
over the event, and cackle as loudly as though 
she had done the deed herself. 

It was in vain that the children built her a 
nice nest, and reasoned with her ; she paid no 
attention to them, but went stepping about the 
yard, turning her head from side to side, grow- 
ing fatter and more indolent as the time went 
on. The holidays had no effect on her. Easter 
aroused no answering enthusiasm in her breast. 

"That season the grocery men in the neigh- 
borhood drove a thriving business m chicken 
feed, for Jamie and Annetta spent all their 
money on rare cereals, recommended by the 
owner of the rabbit, as calculated to stimu- 
late the ambition of a hen and make her lay 
eggs ; and Biddy ate the choice food, and en- 


174 Reformation of Biddy 


'V joyed it, but continued to lead a life of blissful 
idleness. 

“We’ll have to cook her,” said Annetta’s 
^father, laughing. “ She’ll make a fine stew, 
yi ^he’s so big and fat.” 

But this threat only served to throw the 
r children into a state of hysterics. It didn’t 
trouble the hen in the least, for she knew very 
well she was perfectly safe, so long as she had 
two such good fi lends to w itch over her. 

It was the first day of school. Jamie and 
Annetta started off quite cheerfully ; each had 
a slate from which dangled a very long slate 
pencil with a patriotic cover of red and blue 
paper, and a very small sponge, and Jamie 
was carrying an apple which they meant to 
eat at recess. 

When they reached the school-house, they 
found the children in great excitement* and 
well they might be, for this is what they saw 
nailed on the fence 







Reformation of Biddy 


177 

n 


($®iqr ?m Shot/ ,. nu<x snum y 

' A T JonZ-ZPaW SQPMmZO 

CQAf OA/B CQML /)LV- - ^ ^ H 


Now the Jones brothers, aged respectively 
nine and eleven, were famed far and wide for 
the excellence of their pin shows. To see 
Philip Jones walk on his hands, with his feet 
waving in the air, was alone worth the ticket 
money. This show was to be bomething rather 
extra, owing to the presence of a flip-flop art- 
ist from Knightstown, — a little boy who was 
visiting the Jones’s, — and who had promised to 
assist at the performance. For this reason the 
price of admission had been raised from ten 
pins to twenty pins, or an egg. 

As Annetta and Jamie went home at noon, 
they stopped to consult the owner of the rab- 
bit. 

“It seems to me,” said Annetta, “that 
twenty pins is awful high. Don’t you think so?” 



178 Reformation of Biddy 

“No, that’s cheap,” said the boy, oracularly, 
for he never wasted words. “I’d pay twenty- 
five pins any day. You see you can’t get up 
a show like this for less ; if you do, the profits’ll 
all be et up in no time.” 

This decided the children — they must go to 
the show at any price. So on that eventful 
Saturday afternoon, Jamie’s mamma dressed 
him up and put a very clean waist on him, 
with the collar so stiff that it stood almost 
straight out all around, and made his little 
white head look like a stopper to a fancy 
bottle. Then he went over to wait for An- 
netta. Annetta’s mother was combing her 
hair, and the little girl was sitting on a stool in 
liront of her, holding the ribbons with which 
the two little braids were to be tied. 

“I’m glad I’m not a girl,” said Jamie, fer- 
vently, as he watched the performance, “I can 
’ist brush my hair, then it’s all right.” 

By and by the hair was neatly braided, then 
Annetta’s mother counted out twenty pins and 


Reformation of Biddy 1 79 

stuck them in the little girl’s apron, and the 
children started off, first saying good-bye to 
Biddy, whom they found carefully pluming her 
feathers in the back yard. They overtook 
a number of their friends all going the same 
way, walking very briskly and exchanging 
reminiscences of circuses and other shows they 
had attended. When they reached the alley 
upon which Jones’s barn was, they saw a little 
boy sitting on a barrel ringing a bell, and 
enumerating in a shrill voice the many won- 
derful things to be seen inside the barn, for the 
trifling sum of twenty pins, or an egg. 

A number of the performers were going in 
and out carrying mysterious bundles, and, al- 
though the children had seen them every day 
at school, they looked at them now with new 
interest, and a sort of halo hung about their 
heads, for these boys belonged to the show. 

In the mouth of the alley stood the owner of 
the rabbit, with a long line of crooked and 
somewhat rusty pins drawn upon his suspen- 


1 80 Reformation of Biddy 

ders. Now, it was rumored that this boy had 
an uncle who had once attended a prize fight ; 
he was therefore held to be a great author- 
ity on all sporting matters, and was surrounded 
by a group of eager little children, who hoped 
[hat he might be induced to drop some remarks 
pon the subject. 

“I saw a elephant onst in a p’rade,” Jamie 
hispered to a little boy who stood beside him 
ith an egg clasped in his hands; “and when 
walked his skin ? ist wiggled, it was awful 
r funny.” 

The big boy, overhearing this remark, fixed 
Jamie with his eye: “Did you ever see Herb 
Jones skin a cat?” he asked. 

Jamie and Annetta shook their heads and 
admitted that this great privilege had been de- 
nied them. 

“Well,” said the big boy — then words failed 
him ; he could only draw a deep breath and 
look away in the distance, evidently meaning 










/ 






■s -m 



. 























Reformation of Biddy 1 83 

to imply that one had only to see Herbert Jones 
skin a cat and then die. 

By this time the excitement had grown to 
fever heat. The doors were opened and a 
bucket of water was set on the outside, in 
which to test the freshness of the eggs, and 
the children began to file up to get their tick- 
ets. One little girl who had broken her egg, 
was in deep distress. Annetta, who was very 
sorry for her, hastened to her rescue. 

“I haven’t any more pins,” she said to the 
boy at the ticket office, “but if you can change 
this hat pin for me, I’ll take her in with me.” 

“Change for a hat pin !” shouted the boy. 
Then he gave Annetta back five pins, and she 
and Jamie could never quite make out at what 
price they valued the hat pin. 

By and by all difficulties were settled, and 
the children made their way into the barn. 
How deliciously cool it was, and what a de- 
lightful mystery hung about the stage! As 
the audience took their seats on the board 


184 Reformation of Biddy 

benches, the show began with a full French- 
harp orchestra, and all was going well, when 
Annetta heard a familiar clucking under her 
seat, and looking down saw that Biddy had 
followed them. 

Annetta was very much alarmed, for she 
knew that was no place for a hen, and she 
instinctively felt that her presence would cause 
trouble • so she tried to hide her under her 
apron, but Biddy had washed her feet nicely 
and smoothed her feathers before coming to 
the show, and saw no reason why her own- 
ers should be ashamed of her, so she raised 
her head up and looked boldly around her. 
Whenever anything in the performance ap- 
pealed particularly to her, she expressed her 
pleasure by a low clucking ; but even then all 
might have been well had it not been for 
Tommy Barnes. As soon as he caught sight of 
Biddy, Annetta knew there would be trouble 
—and she was right. At first he put his hand 


Reformation of Biddy 185 

over his mouth and giggled; then he stood up. 

“Annetta and Jamie went and brung their 
hen,” he shouted. 

Then the pent-up anxiety of the last half 
hour found vent. “That’s right,” cried the 
little girl, wriggling off her seat, “go and tell, 
tattle-tale!” 

“You told on me when I took my dog to 
school,” retorted Tommy. 

“Well, this isn’t any school,” answered An- 
netta. 

By this time the attention of the audience 
was so divided between the stage and dispu- 
tants that the clown came down to see what 
was the trouble. 

Now, in spite of his histrionic talent, the lit- 
tle clown had a very kind heart, and would 
have been perfectly willing for the hen to re- 
main undisturbed, but he felt it was due to the 
strange boy from Knightstown to maintain the 
dignity of the show. 


1 86 Reformation of Biddy 



“I am sorry, Annetta,” he said, with a ju- 
dicial air, “but I guess she’ll have to be put' 
out. You see we can’t afford to show any par- 
ticulation in this thing. If we let your hen 
stay, it wouldn’t be any time till the barn would 
be full of hens, and you know, yourself, that’s 
no way to give a show.” 

“She isn’t hurting anything,” said Annetta. 

“And we can’t send her home,” said Jamie, 
beginning to cry, “ ’cause she’d get lost if we 
did. She doesn’t know the way. She’s never 
been this far before.” 

Then the rest of the performers came down, 
and the audience took sides, and the dispute 
ran high. At last the strange boy was ap- 
pealed to, and asked how such a case would be 
handled in Knightstown. But it seemed that 
no such occurrence had ever taken place there. 
He thought, though, to be fair to all parties, 
he hen should either be put out, or the owner 
be made to buy her a ticket ; and as Annetta 
had not the price of a ticket about her, it 










Reformation of Biddy 189 

looked as though Tommy Barnes was going to 
triumph. 

All this time Biddy had been sitting very 
still, looking about her thoughtfully with her 
little bright eyes. She felt very much annoyed 
and a little bit hurt, too, that her presence 
should have caused such a disturbance, for she 
had always been very welcome wherever she 
had chosen to go. But most of all, she was 
intensely displeased with Tommy Barnes, for 
she knew quite well that he was causing all 
her embarrassment. She remembered the 
many indignities that she and Annetta had suf- 
fered at his hands, and the morning she had 
been chased down the alley by his little dog 
rose up before her with painful distinctness. 

All at once a bright idea seemed to strike her. 
She smiled to herself as she hopped down from 
the board and made her way cautiously and 
unobserved under the rows of seats and flew 
up on the stage. Nobody paid any attention 
to her (for the argument was running high by 


190 Reformation of Biddy 

this time) , until all at once, over the shrill sound 
of the children’s voices, there arose an exultant 
cackling. It was Biddy’s cackle her owners 
knew quite well, for they had heard it often 
Sbefore. This, however, was no idle demon- 
'Stration, for when Annetta and her friend went 
scrambling upon the stage, they found the hen 
standing complacently with her head on one 
side, and if she had worn a vest she certainly 
would have had her thumbs in her armholes. 
And well she might be proud, for there on 
some straw, in the very center of the circus 
ring, lay a beautiful, large, white egg. 

Then Annetta and Jamie and their followers 
raised a shriek of triumph, and the little girl 
gathered the hen lovingly in her arms. 

“Now ! now !” she cried, going up to Tom- 
my Barnes, and wrinkling her nose to give 
more force to her remarks; “she’s paid her 
way now, I guess.” 

But even then Tommy was not satisfied. 


Reformation of Biddy 191 

“ Fetch that bucket of water,” he said, “and 
let’s see if it’s a fresh one.” 

Several witnesses from both sides hastened 
to get the bucket, and set it on a bench. 
Then the children bent forward anxiously, and 
Biddy kept her eager little eyes fixed on her 
treasure while it was being tested. It went to 
the bottom with such directness of purpose that 
it proved itself beyond a doubt to be the very 
freshest egg offered in payment for a ticket that 
afternoon. 

As soon as her right to attend the show had 
been thus honorably established, Biddy hopped 
off the stage and walked in a stately manner 
down the aisle, turning her head from side to 
side, and nodding it back and forth, so that the 
shining feathers on her neck slipped up and 
down and fitted into each other like the scales 
on a good knight’s armor. She took her 
place openly and boldly between her proud 
owners, and sat there during the remainder of 
the performance, which she enjoyed, as she 


192 


Reformation of Biddy 


afterwards remarked to a friend, “ about as 
much as any entertainment it had ever been 
her pleasure to attend.” 

But the good effect of the pin show did not 
stop there, for that evening as the children were 
going home, with their little hot faces close to- 
gether, talking over the merits of the various 
actors, Biddy came stepping along after them 
with a string tied to one of her legs, the other 
end of which Annetta held, and all the way she 
seemed to be thinking deeply. Whether she 
was impressed with the worthlessness of her 
life and had made up her mind to be a better 
and nobler hen, or whether she merely wanted to 
have an egg on hand in case another pin show 
should be given, I don’t know; but I do know 
that from that time she abandoned her idle 
ways ; and Jamie and Annetta never failed to 
find a fresh egg in the nest every morning, 
till by and by she came to be looked upon as 























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